


Being Green.  1/1.

by punky_96



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 15:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13484253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punky_96/pseuds/punky_96
Summary: Re-post from LJ.AU. What will the New Year bring for NYC’s premier party planner?A/N: This is kind of all over the place. I started with girlie_girl_23’s prompt about not getting Christmas, but maybe we could have New Year’s. I threw in ‘Being Green’ on repeat from Glee and then I thought that the spiked eggnog making a twin sick from shrubsareit’s prompt would make a twin emergency…





	Being Green.  1/1.

_**Being Green**_  
  
The snow next to the curb was dirty from cars, passersby, and life passing it by. The chill in the air had dipped down below freezing and her gloves were just warm enough. Looking at the shop windows while she walked, she let a wave of melancholy wash over her. In all of those stupid essays growing up about what I’ll do when I am older—none of them pointed to being alone in New York City so far from home, alone, and just feeling stuck in limbo. Flexing her fingers into fists and then back out she quickened her step. A holiday was happening and she had a job to do—although that was only another tick in the ‘I had no idea my life could end up like this’ category. Class of 2003 had seen her full of hope and wonder. The sky was the limit and she was going to Chicago to play Lacrosse and find her way. Instead she found a boyfriend and the dream of writing in New York. Like so many others before her, the boyfriend was gone and the dream of writing in the Big Apple had been tarnished to the point of being retired to a few old notebooks in a box in the bottom of her closet.  
  
Cursing her decision to walk, since it gave her time to think, she checked her phone just in case. Maybe Lily would text her about how it was going in Ohio. Maybe her parents would forgive her for not coming home, again. Sighing she shook her shoulders out and refused to cave into her doldrums. Mentally she made a list of what was left to do before the party. Caterers, guest lists, tables, decorations, music, bar, keeping Mr. Griffin’s hands to his wife or himself, and making sure everyone got paid. Then there was the clean up. At least the crew was the same as they had used on several other events. She’d just have to check in the morning to make sure they got the deposit back.  
  
The doorman snapped to attention upon seeing her. “Good evening, Ms. Sachs. Enjoying the fresh air tonight?”  
  
Forcing a smile onto her face, Andrea returned his greeting, “Yes, Elliot. It sure is chilly.”  
  
He nodded holding the door for one of his favorite ladies. “We’re on at eight, right, ma’am?”  
  
Slipping her gloves off one finger at a time, Andrea turned slightly to him, amused. “Doors?” She prompted him with a raised eyebrow and faintest trace of a smile.  
  
“At seven thirty.” He laughed loudly nodding at her in confirmation.  
  
Beginning to unbutton her jacket Andrea turned away from him with a low, “Thank you, Elliot.” Game face on, Andrea hung her jacket over her arm and stepped forward. The doorman was an exceptional fellow, she made a mental note to send him something special for the New Year. Breathing deep she prepared for the next stop at the counter. The concierge, Dominick, would be getting no such consideration, holiday or no. She was glad that his job meant he had to greet her and be civil, it made suffering his attitude just slightly easier.  
  
“Ms. Sachs. May I take your coat?” Dominick at least knew the right things to say. At least he did now. Andrea handed over her coat thinking of the first times they had used the space here at the hotel and thought that thankfully they had indeed come a long way.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
“That was the best yet.”  
  
“How are you going to top that next week?”  
  
“Where ever did you get that idea?”  
  
Andrea retrieved her coat from Dominick at the front. She couldn’t wait to be away. Festive could be created with decorations, and parties could be successful with a little panache for planning, but that couldn’t make the smile really go all the way to her eyes. It couldn’t make this season stand out from any other. No, it would all just blend in, to nothing. She buttoned her coat, pulled her gloves out of the pockets and once again opted to walk. Elliot wished her well and hoped she had a good night. She didn’t look back, but she knew he watched for her until she stepped out of sight.  
  
Rockefeller center was still lit up, though the skaters had all gone home for the night. Andrea’s steps tap-tap-tapped on the sidewalk as she tried to breathe deep and find the thread of hope that she had hung onto for so long. It was a night for walking, perhaps not what her mother would choose for her, but with her tiny can of pepper spray and phone she felt the risk was worth it. Again her mother would likely disagree, but the list of what they agreed on these days was pretty short. By the time she got to Times Square the bars were spilling out into the streets refilling the pavements with passersby. The lights still blinked and the scaffolding was already being prepped for the big ball drop. Another year was slipping away one day at a time.  
  
Dressed fashionably, tall, successful, and searching for something in her heart, Andrea blended in with all the others around. Ordinary things surrounded her and she felt her shoulders droop—she was ordinary. She didn’t want that, not anymore. Once she had been something else, or on the way to being something else, and now, well, now all she could do was look back. Well, really if she was honest, she wasn’t ordinary in any way. The movers and the shakers used her to plan parties, events, and make the magic happen. She was who the elite turned to for amazing and that made her amazing, didn’t it?  
  
The light changed and she stopped on the curb, one among fifty and she watched as a black town car turned the corner slowly. Her feet lifted up on tip-toe as if that would enable her to see who was inside. With a sigh she settled back down and then walked with the others before the light had even turned again. She had to admit in moments like this that she didn’t miss the life—she was living it, or on her way to its zenith anyway. No, she missed the person, the woman, the inexplicably intoxicating Miranda Priestly.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Melancholy was good for Andrea in some ways. It made her run harder, work longer, and push herself beyond any limit she had previously thought she had. This time was no different. Three times during the event the ceiling would appear to change with a clever scaffolding installation inspired by Lily’s art gallery and some inventive hanging decorations and imaginatively colorful lighting. The wall decorations were on moving panels that could be conveniently changed when the lights went dark for three performances during the night—before dinner, after dinner, and after the obligatory speeches and awards. Andrea had nearly gone to fisticuffs with Maxwell, the lead electrician, and she had said more than she should to the lighting technician, Angelina. She couldn’t see what their problem was, it wasn’t like she was asking for too much—the stars or any other impossible thing. She just wanted magic, perfection, and beauty. Really was that so hard to imagine?  
  
Taking a quiet moment, Andrea stood gazing up at the well-decorated tree. It was one of her better ones.  
  
“Well done again, Andrea.” Mr. Griffin had more than eggnog. She could tell by the tone of his voice, the smell of his breath at the side of her face, and the amount of body heat he had shared with her.  
  
Swallowing her disgust, Andrea kept her gaze on the tree, but she didn’t see it anymore. His hand had started on her shoulder, when he leaned in to compliment her, but then it had caressed down the exposed skin of her back and settled on her hip as if he was about to hold her from behind or worse. “Thank you, Mr. Griffin.” Andrea ground out. She had always addressed him formally. She had always hoped that it would create an obvious distance between them.  
  
“Now, now, is that anyway to spread holiday cheer?” Andrea cursed the fact that he was so tall that his mouth brushed the shell of her ear. His thumb caressed up and down along the sensitive skin of her side.  
  
“There you are, dear.” A familiar, though long lost, voice caressed her frazzled nerves cutting right through Mr. Griffin’s ill-advised sexual harassment. Andrea stepped away from her horrid boss and smiled her first full fledged smile in greeting of the voice.  
  
Mr. Griffin took a sip of his drink as he watched what he thought was his protégé beam at the approaching tall silver haired woman who had been a pain in his side for decades. The whiskey burned down his throat and he greeted her. “Why, Miranda, didn’t expect you to stay so late at our little soiree.”  
  
Andrea felt a ton of bricks lift off of her as Miranda stood next to her and shook his hand in her most politely dismissive manner possible. “Alan.” How Miranda could make one word sound like a salutation, conversation, and dismissal all at once, Andrea longed to know and now had a renewed hope of asking.  
  
“You promised me a dance, dear.” Miranda turned, stepping with her back to Mr. Griffin and her front to Andrea.  
  
Oh what an amazing front too, Andrea couldn’t help her gaze fluttering to the bust of Miranda’s dress, then sliding up her neckline, over her lusciously red lips, and then finally to her eyes. Those dazzling blue eyes that held a depth of emotion as they searched Andrea’s brown ones. “I did.” Andrea breathed out neither a question nor a statement, but almost a promise.  
  
Miranda took Andrea’s hand murmuring simply, “Come.”  
  
As they reached the dance floor, the band slowly shifted their song into a waltz that reminded Andrea of a daydream she used to have about dancing fairies in the moonlight. The lights changed then, according to Andrea’s own plan, and with small spotlights suddenly it seemed as if all of the couples glowed. Andrea couldn’t help but realize that her deep green gown complemented Miranda’s deep red gown in a way that seemed to flow into the universe’s plan for the spirit of the season. Not surprisingly Miranda took the lead, whisking Andrea away from the edge and around and around into the middle and weaving amongst the other couples. Looking into those blue eyes Andrea found it hard not to imagine herself with wings like a Christmas angel.  
  
When the music stopped they were in the corner of the dance floor closest to the exit. For seconds that stretched beyond their normal bounds Miranda held Andrea as their eyes continued dancing from lips to eyes to cheeks to noses to eyes to lips. Andrea’s feet lifted her forward onto her toes as Miranda’s eyes fluttered shut. The second between them was closing by the hundredth when it all stopped.  
  
“Miranda.” Andrea turned half expecting to see red hair, green/blue eye shadow, and an eye roll, but she must have had a younger sister because it wasn’t Emily. The woman had the audacity to step onto the dance floor holding out a cell phone as Miranda let her hands drop and Andrea took a small step away. “Caroline got into the eggnog for tomorrow. Cassidy called 911.”  
  
Dream Andrea felt as though she had been doused in water. ‘Perhaps this is what a snow angel really feels like.’ She considered as she watched Miranda take the phone and walk away. Numbly she followed the assistant trailing behind Miranda. The exit was this way anyway, fresh air sounded good right about now. Miranda rushed out with Emily, jr. and into her waiting town car. Andrea watched as if underwater and wasn’t sure if it was Roy or not. Things change, don’t they? It’s been a few years anyway. Hugging herself in the cold air out front, Andrea cursed her luck. She watched her breath frozen on the air and wished she could make it into shapes of her and Miranda dancing. Vaguely, she wondered if anyone had taken a picture. They had to have been beautiful together—she could feel it. It wasn’t arrogance. It was just knowing the truth of it, like when she got a tree decorated just right, or put together the perfect party. It was the way that she knew when she had first started doing this job that it was the way to go for her. She felt powerful, creative, and she could sponsor events that meant something as well as the more elite events. She didn’t have to be a lawyer or a fashionista, but she could be near it all the same and not have to make difficult choices like she had with Emily and then watched Miranda make with Nigel.  
  
Her schedule was her own and she had time to follow her old passions in activism as well as the ability to buy expensive shoes and use her name to get into a restaurant. Most days she didn’t put too much stock into her successes, but on nights like tonight she felt as though she had climbed all the way to the top.  
  
“Ms. Sachs? You need a jacket out here.” The deep baritone of the doorman jolted her back into awareness of her situation. She smiled at him, but thought that he wasn’t as good as Elliot. “You coming back in, ma’am?” He reached for the door, but didn’t open it until she nodded at him.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Of all the ways she had thought of returning to Elias-Clarke, this was not one of them.  She arrived in a black and silver gown in a limousine to the rooftop party for employees, private vendors, and other associated elite. Except for that night dancing with Miranda, Andrea had not seen any familiar faces from Runway or Elias-Clarke. She had worked for them, ostensibly for the lesser publications with smaller budgets, but even when she had worked for designers and other fashion conscious, she had not seen anyone she had longed for. Miranda seeking her out and sharing such a special time with her had been more than her fantasies had ever dreamed about. Andrea assumed that tonight she was invited as one of the vendors having worked with Elias-Clarke, but a small part of her hoped that even if Miranda hadn’t invited her, that maybe she’d be pleased to see her.  
  
Looking around the space, Andrea tried not to use her professional lens, but she just couldn’t. The classics theme was truly wonderful. Screens had been placed up and around the rooftop in order to exhibit images of classic cars, classic fashions, and old covers and news headlines. Really it was quite clever and Andrea now understood why black and white had been emphasized on the invitation.  
  
“Six.” Nigel had greeted her and taken her for a twirl as much for sociability as for warmth of activity. “You look great.” His smile held not even the smallest shred of disdain or distance. His hands felt warm and his smile was inviting. Despite losing contact, he seemed to reach right past all of that time to be her friend as if no time at all had passed.  
  
“You’re very dashing tonight, yourself, Nigel.” She had smiled at him. “What are you doing now?”  
  
He frowned at her fake ignorance and twirled her so that her dress belled out perfectly. “You know I have my own magazine, Andy. I know you do.”  
  
Her laugh felt natural and free, in a way it had not in a long time, and she found herself memorizing the moment. “Well, it suits you.” She giggled at her own horrible pun as he groaned and twirled her away again.  
  
“Don’t change, Six. You’re a classic.” He smirked as he brought her back to him. As the music ended he leaned forward kissing her on the cheek, “Let’s do lunch next week, okay?”  
  
Andrea had searched his eyes and realized that she wanted that more than she had wanted anything in quite some time. “Bubby’s?” She suggested with a smirk.  
  
“Promise?” He lifted his brow at her securing his lunch date. As he stepped away from her, she saw his assistant step forward with a look on his face that indicated Nigel’s time at the party was over or at the very least temporarily interrupted. He shrugged as he walked away and then threw back over his shoulder, “See you next year, dear.”  
  
*** *** ***  
  
At a table in the corner, Andrea had sat down to look in between the screens and out over the skyline of New York city. In her mind she placed where the major landmarks were even though she couldn’t see them from her vantage point—the Rock, Empire, and Chrysler. She wondered if she should go see the Statue of Liberty again to try and recapture that sense of wonder and idealism New York was meant to inspire. The music changed and she found herself losing herself to it. She had danced with Miranda ten nights ago to similar music. Closing her eyes she let her body feel the slow pace of the background beat and imagined the heat of Miranda’s body swaying against hers once more. She almost thought that the power of her mind had truly kicked in when she felt a warm hand on her bare shoulder. With a start she came back into the cold reality of the New York rooftop as words brushed against her ear like pixie dust. “Did you come here alone?” Andrea opened her eyes wide turning to look up at her visitor. Miranda’s blue eyes searched hers and she stayed bent down so that her face was quite close to Andrea’s. “Are you looking for someone?” The corners of Miranda’s lips played into a dazzling smile that lit something bright in Andrea’s heart.  
  
Whispering as she looked from blue eyes to red lips and back, Andrea gave the next line, “To kiss you?” Their eyes danced while their hearts burst into song like so many parades down Main Street.  
  
Miranda stepped back, taking Andrea’s hand and pulling her up when she reached out for her. Without quite realizing it they stepped toward each other, bodies moving to the music. Overwhelmed, Andrea swallowed and closed her eyes reveling in how much better the reality was than her remembered daydream. Miranda’s body against hers, hand on her hip and more intimately on her shoulder was so much more real. “God, I’ve missed you.” Andrea sighed as she collected herself a bit and opened her eyes.  
  
Miranda didn’t miss a step, but Andrea almost did as she saw the affection in those blue eyes and felt Miranda’s hand leave her shoulder only to caress and cup her cheek. “And I you.” She murmured hoping that Andrea would grasp the importance of the thought.  
  
Wait staff passed out flutes of champagne, the music stopped, the evening's host made announcements, noisemakers went off, and Auld Lang Sang was playing. On the corner of the floor, two women held each other ushering in the New Year in their own way, making resolutions and declarations letting the whole world pass them by. “We didn’t have Christmas, Andrea.” The regret in her voice encompassed so much more than the missed opportunity of more than a week ago. Andrea nodded her acknowledgement and tried to remember how to breathe. “But if you’d stay…” Miranda trailed off not wanting to be a fool.  
  
“Maybe we could have New Year’s day.” Andrea murmured before pulling Miranda closer.  She hummed at the perfection of the moment and thrilled at how open Miranda was being. As their eyes met, their smiles dropped away, when they leaned forward into their first kiss of the New Year on a rooftop in New York. Lips slid against lips, eyes shut, and arms wound around drawing their bodies that much closer together. All around them shouts rang out and couples were kissing, while champagne corks were flying and everyone rang in the New Year.  
  
 **Fin.**  
  
  
xxx


End file.
